


Snippets of Life

by Peasantaries



Series: these paths, that keep crossing [16]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Awkwardness, Best Friends, Childhood Friends, Confessions, Growing Up Together, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Kid Fic, M/M, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Pining, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 07:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13993062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peasantaries/pseuds/Peasantaries
Summary: Yuuri gapes, and his towel slips.“Viktor!” Yuuri cries, his cheeks as hot as the steam in the bathroom. “What are you doing here?”“I — you — the pain—”“I STUBBED MY TOE!” Yuuri cries.Despite growing up together, they’re still getting used to this ‘mates’ business.





	Snippets of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Hey yo! So these are all the compiled comment prompts that you guys left, because they were all so sweet and cute !1! feel free to leave more, and I'll get around to them ! they are super motivating !!!
> 
> I am also very tired and have tried to post this twice so all i have to say is thanks to your continued readership <333

The first time Yuuri saw a wedding, he was seven, and playing in the park.

People were laughing, lots of the them, but the thing that caught Yuuri’s attention was the lady dressed in a white gown, trailing down at her feet.

And she was laughing; holding some flowers and using them as cover as lots of other people sprayed her with a bottle of juice that went everywhere.

Yuuri stopped, frowned. “Wot’s at?” He asked mama, pointing.

Mama smiled. “That’s a wedding. They’re having it in the park.”

Yuuri tilted his head. “A weddin?”

“Yes, it’s what two people have when they love each other very much, and decide to celebrate it.”

Instantly, Viktor pops into his head.

But then Yuuri frowns again. Would they wear white? There’s only one person wearing white in the group, and that’s the lady. Does it have to be a lady?

But they also look like they’re having fun, throwing flowers about and jumping around the field. The lady in white and another man wearing grey run hand in hand through the little wooden archway in the park, and the others stand with flowers and throw them in the air as they pass.

Yuuri tilts his head, watching. And then he turns back to his sand castle and forgets all about it.

*

Yuuri is reminded of it again at twelve, during a movie when a man kneels down on one knee. “Proposing,” Yuuri later finds out from his mam, which leads to a “wedding”, which then means two people are “married.”

He tries not to think about it too hard. He has a feeling that it’s not something for him; it’s a lady and a man always featured, and the only person that keeps popping into his head at the word ‘wedding’ is Viktor, with his long, white hair wearing a crisp white shirt, glowing as he beams wide, and Yuuri, a bow-tie fastened around his neck in a black suit, with a red rose in his jacket pocket.

But anyways. It’s not something for two boys, that much Yuuri has learned. It doesn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

**

“Yuuri!” Yuuko shouts, one day in class as they’re scribbling out their drawings. “Your hair ‘s gettin’ so long!”

Yuuri blinks, glancing up. “Hmm?” He reaches up with a hand, tucking a strand behind his ear. “S not tha’ long, is it?” He frowns

“It’ll be like mine!” Viktor beams, and straightens up in his seat.

Yuuri smiles, opens his mouth to reply, until Yuuko just reaches out with a hair-clip and snaps it into the strand Yuuri had tucked behind his ear, keeping it in place.

“Perfect!” She giggles, clapping her hands at the bow in Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri feels his face heat, and touches it carefully.

Viktor, however, is not happy: he gapes, and stands up in his chair. “You — you can’t do that!” He shouts.

Yuuri and Yuuko blink.

“Put a hair-clip in his hair?” Yuuko frowns. “I don’t think Yuuri min’ded.”

Yuuri nods. “I don’t mind.” He says softly.

“No!” Viktor stomps a foot, and points at Yuuri’s face. “I’m the only one who can make Yuuri blush!”

Yuuri gapes.

“S not  _fair!_ ” Viktor whines, and looks close to tears, and stomps again. “I wanted to be the only one!”

Yuuri, at a loss, takes the hair-clip out his hair and pins it in Viktor’s, pushing back some hair falling across his forehead and securing it away.

“There.” Yuuri states, and Viktor stares, dumbfounded. “Perfect.”

It’s Viktor’s turn to blush, now, and he turns bright red.

**

“Yuuri.” Viktor calls sweetly, swaying on the balls of his feet with his hands clasped behind his back.

Yuuri startles, glancing up, before his mouth falls open. “Wh — Viktor, why—”

“We have ice-skating, or did you forget?” He asks, still with that same saccharine smile.

Yuuri blinks. “Oh. Right, yeah.” He clicks his phone on to check the time, nods, and then starts to gather his things.

Viktor clears his throat while he waits, looking off to the other boys gathered around the table in the library. So  _these_  are the Math Class People.

He tries not to glare too outrageously.

“You’re leaving already?” One of them pipes up. He makes a sad face, bottom lip jutting out.

Yuuri shoots him an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I have to.” He stands, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“How are we supposed to do Topic 5? Please Yuuri, you’re our only hope.” He reaches out with hands, making grabby-fists in the air, and Yuuri laughs.

Viktor feels a growl bubble up in his throat.

“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Viktor states, and flashes his teeth in a grin as he drapes an arm across Yuuri’s shoulders. “After all, you’re in the top class. Some of us could use Yuuri a little more than others.”

The boy stares, shocked, while Yuuri elbows him sharply in the side. Viktor pays it no notice, instead choosing to half-drag Yuuri away.

“Viktor.” Yuuri hisses.

Viktor blinks innocently. “What? I just saved you!”

“How?” Yuuri splutters.

“You would have had to stay later and help them all if I hadn’t come!” Viktor reasons.

Yuuri just sighs.

**

Yuuri steps out the shower, scrambling for his glasses in a mad, all arms out search, squinting in the fog before he remembers he's left them in his room,  _again_ , right on his nightstand where he took them off to go have a shower, like an _idiot_.

Yuuri huffs, ripping a towel thrown over the side of the bath and securing it around his waist, before going in hunt of his glasses.

Only Yuuri doesn't exactly factor in how wet the floor is.

He skids, wind-milling his arms in a desperate attempt to avoid the floor, only to stub his toe against the sink.

Pain lances all the way from his foot to his leg, shooting up his spine and practically vibrating his teeth. Yuuri yelps, both hands flying down to the injured limb as he hops about the bathroom like a lunatic.

He's hissing, biting his tongue on the rather harsh words he only just learned the other day that want to worm their way up his throat, because his _mam_ is downstairs, and so he settles for a low, long, drawn-out groan of pain, one hand clutched in the towel at his hips and the other gripping his poor, pathetic toes.

He manages to escape the wet floor and tumbles out into the hallway on one leg, hopping about, and it's only then that he hears some kind of commotion downstairs.

“Where is he? Is he okay?” A voice is shouting, and Yuuri barely has time to register who it is before the person is sprinting upstairs, heavy feet thudding on the steps before they're face to face with Yuuri.

There's a flash of silver, and then wide blue eyes.

“Viktor?” Yuuri squints.

“Yuuri!” Viktor cries.

Yuuri gapes, and his towel slips.

“Viktor!” Yuuri cries, his cheeks as hot as the steam in the bathroom. “What are you doing here?”

“I — you — the pain—”

“I STUBBED MY TOE!” Yuuri cries.

Viktor is quiet for a few telling moments. “Oh.” He says.

Yuuri does not miss the way Viktor's eyes seem stuck on his bare chest.

 _"Viktor!"_ Yuuri cries, flushing all the way down to his collarbone.

Viktor spins on the spot and covers his eyes. "Sorry!"

**  
It happened one day after school.

“I wonder what I’d look like with curly hair.” Viktor mused.

Yuuri glances up from his textbook. “Mm?”

Viktor was playing with a strand of hair, looking down at it. “My hairs always been straight. Even after the shower it’s not curly. Yours is curly.” He huffs.

Yuuri reaches up instinctually. “Mine?” He feels a blush coming on.

Viktor nods. “Yeah, it’s always nice and curly!” Viktor reaches out, ruffling his mop, but Yuuri ducks away and smacks at his hand.

“Hey!” He protests, as Viktor laughs.

As payback, Yuuri grins. “Why don’t we find out?”

Viktor frowns, but Yuuri points his eyes and nods toward Mari’s room.

Viktor’s mouth forms a perfect, ‘o’. “We’ll get into trouble!” He hisses, as if they’ll be heard.

Yuuri snickers, and stands up to tiptoe towards her door.

“Yuuri!” Viktor hisses again, and Yuuri giggles, entering into his big sister’s room and stealing her curlers, lying atop the heap of makeup and clothes that is her bed.

He only realises the flaw in their plan when he’s standing with them in hand.

“Uh.” He starts. “I dunno how to use them.”

Viktor sighs, takes them from him. “Plug them in.” He does as such, but frowns down at them. “Um? Maybe — ow, OW!” He shouts, dropping them as they heat up. “How do you hold them?”

Yuuri chuckles, picking them up by the handle. “Like this.”

“What now?”

They look at one another.

Thus, at a loss, they consult the internet.

What follows is Yuuri playing a tutorial video on YouTube while sitting cross legged behind Viktor and carefully picking up strands of his hair, following the person on the screen and being interrupted by Viktor’s, “too hot, too hot!”, “TOO LONG! My hair’s gonna fall out!” Every few minutes.

In the end, though, they’re reduced to a giggling, snickering mess, Yuuri wheezing at the mismatched nature of Viktor’s hair, some parts straight and some parts ringleted, while Viktor clutches his sides, eyes squinted, and shakes his head silently.

“You’d make such a pretty girl.” Yuuri gasps, and isn’t even lying.

Viktor finds a pillow from somewhere and hits him with it.

**

The first time Viktor felt Yuuri have an attack, it was during math class.

He’s hated math ever since.

But the slow, creeping feeling seeped inside his chest and spread downward. At first, Viktor thought he was taking ill.

He felt his forehead, and it wasn’t hot. But the feeling was growing, twisting and constricting his chest, squeezing his lungs and making them smaller, and Viktor only had a minute of confusion before it flashed across his mind: Yuuri.

It was Yuuri.

Yuuri was feeling this way, because of something Viktor couldn’t see, and he was somewhere that Viktor wasn’t.

Viktor sprang up from his seat in a second.

“Viktor, where —”, the teacher began, but Viktor didn’t even hear her, instead already bolting out the door and down the corridor.

 _Find him, find him,_ is the only thought that raced through his mind, until Viktor did.

Suddenly, he could see Yuuri, backed up against the lockers, and two older boys sneering down at him.

Something takes over Viktor then. All he sees it hot, blank rage.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” His voice boomed around the corridor and growled from deep within his chest.

The two boys took one look at Viktor and ran.

Maybe it was his expression, or the speed he was sprinting towards them, Viktor will never know, but he doesn’t care as he skids to a halt in front of Yuuri.

And finds that the feeling isn’t gone.

It’s still twisting and turning his insides, and Viktor whips his head to find Yuuri gasping for breath, a hand pressed to his chest, and staring at Viktor with wide, terrified eyes.

“Yuuri, Yuuri.” Viktor calls gently, holding out his hands as if to a startled baby deer.

Yuuri is rasping, making this horrible, wheezing noise as of his throat has closed up.

“Yuuri.” Viktor smoothes his hands down Yuuri’s arm, and feels the tremble in them.

“Yuuri.” Viktor whispers, leans in and presses their foreheads together. “Breathe, you can do it.” He lifts a hand and places it on the side of Yuuri’s throat, rubbing the jack-rabbit pulse he feels there.

Slowly, slowly, Yuuri breathes.

“Thank you.” Yuuri gasps.

Viktor says nothing, just falls forward and wraps Yuuri in his arms.

**

Yuuri stares morosely at his food, pushing about the pieces of pasta with a plastic fork while he tunes in and out of what Yuuko and Phichit are saying.

Viktor is away again. Soccer practise. Stupid soccer.

Yuuri has long since given up on spying, but it still sucks. It sucks not being able to spend lunch together and it sucks that Yuuri has ice skating tonight and so they most likely won’t see one another after school and it —  _sucks_.

“Yuuri... Yuuri … _Yuuri!”_

The voice to his left sharpens suddenly, and Yuuri startles to find Phichit staring.

“Were you even listening?” He huffs, but he doesn’t look particularly annoyed, more resigned.

“Daydreaming about lover-boy.” Yuuko adds, and Yuuri feels heat flush his face.

“ _No!”_  He denies immediately, and then regrets it. “I mean — I don’t know what you mean!” He scrambles desperately.

It’s too late. It was a weak attempt at best, but Yuuko just lifts her eyes and gives him a raised brow.

Yuuri feels his flush darken. “I never — I wasn’t — he’s not — I don’t think like —”

It’s a lost cause, that much Yuuri can see, and in order to not die of premature embarrassment, Yuuri grabs his bag.

“Anyway, I need to go to the library. I —” he thinks about denying it again, but gives up with a huff and storms off.

“You still don’t think we should just say?” Phichit murmurs.

Yuuko shakes her head, adamant. “The healthy development of a bond means that no outside pressure—”

“Alright, alright!” Phichit holds both hands spread. “I won’t lock them in the cupboard again.”

“Did it work?” Yuuko asks, perfectly calm and genial.

Phichit purses his mouth. “...no.” He grumbles, after a minute.

**

Yuuri could barely stand still, the excitement thrumming in his veins at the thought that Viktor would be here any minute, and he hadn’t seen him in three whole weeks.

‘Training camp.’ Viktor has said. ‘Have to go.’ He had said. ‘It’s important for the team.

Well. Yuuri has grumbled and grunted but ultimately relented, because it’s not as if he’s going to say no, he doesn’t control Viktor.

But now he’s back, and Yuuri is meeting him at the train station, and Viktor had texted to say he was only a few minutes away, and —

Yuuri startles when he feels a tap to his shoulder, turns and.

It’s Viktor. It is.

But also — it’s a Viktor that Yuuri has never seen before. Because he’s toned and broad and ... big, bigger than he was three and a half weeks ago. He suddenly looks more like a man than that lean, teenaged boy Yuuri has spent his entire life with.

Yuuri blinks in shock.

“Yuuri!!” Viktor shouts, laughing, but.

Oh no, but his voice has deepened, and now contains a dark, rich note to it that it never used to before.

Immediately, Yuuri flushes from the tips of his toes to the tops of his ears, in one fell swoop.

“V-Viktor—” Yuuri stutters, until he’s suddenly gripped by strong hands and enfolded in large, warm arms.

Yuuri is stiff.

He hasn’t scented Viktor in so long. The smell has faded from all his clothes, even his bedsheets don’t smell like Viktor anymore, just the remnants, which is somehow worse than nothing. It makes a deep-rooted part of Yuuri ache, like he’s hurt a vital organ, just by smelling it.

But now, confronted with the real thing, Yuuri seems to have forgotten how potent this scent was — deep and familiar, like burying his nose into freshly washed linen that’s been lying out in the sun to dry; smelling faintly of the wind and the grass and the sunlight.

Yuuri closes his eyes and inhales deep, filling the bottom of his lungs with Viktor, and he feels Viktor do the same; feels the way his chest expands where it’s pressed to Yuuri.

“It’s so good to see you.” Viktor pulls back, still speaking in that strange, deep, not-Viktor voice, and beams wide, his grin charming as ever, but coupled with his muscles biceps, his broad hands holding Yuuri’s shoulders, and his chest that currently stretches his t-shirt tight and highlights — Things™️ that Yuuri Did Not Need To See, Yuuri is suddenly feeling a little lightheaded.

“It’s good to see you.” He manages weakly.

“You look different.” Viktor frowns, and reaches up to tug one of Yuuri’s curls. “Did you get taller?”

HAH. _“Hah!”_ Yuuri barks.

Viktor blinks, confused.

“Let me get that.” Yuuri offers, bending to lift Viktor’s bag.

Viktor beams, slings an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, and begins detailing every single little detail of the trip.

Yuuri hums, nods, and ignores the blush that stays on his cheeks.

**

“Say, ‘ahhh’,” Viktor grins, holding out his fork with some cake on it.

“I’m not saying ‘ahh’, Viktor, come on.” Yuuri laughs, chasing the fork, only Viktor withholds it, managing to evade Yuuri’s open mouth.

“You have to say it, you have to say —”

Yuuri reaches out, only instead of going for the fork, he goes for Viktor; tickling his sides and making him cry out.

In Viktor’s moment of weakness, Yuuri catches the fork and snaps his teeth around it.

“Mm.” He moans, pulling back, while Viktor stares, slack-jawed.

Almost like a scene from a comedy, Viktor’s hand falls away to reveal both the shocked and the horrified expressions of Phichit and Yuuko, sitting across from them in stunned silence, their food untouched.

“Is this even allowed?” Phichit whispers to Yuuko. “I mean, doesn’t this violate like — public indecency laws?”

“The penny will drop.” She murmurs back, watching them intently. “It has to drop. For my sanity. There’s no way it can’t drop.”

Yuuri blinks, turning to his friends as if just noticing they’re there. “Sorry, what?”

Phichit and Yuuko give him identical expressions of stunned, disbelieving silence.

“Yuuri—” Phichit starts.

“Don’t.” Yuuko starts, and sends him a wide-eyed look. “Phichit, we promised —”

“I can’t do it anymore, Yuuko! It’s too much! I don’t — mph!”

“Sorry about him.” Yuuko smiles thinly, a hand over a struggling Phichit’s mouth. “Just experiencing some — technical difficulties at the moment.” She says, as she stands and starts dragging Phichit away backwards. “We’ll be back shortly.”

“Mm dnn guupohh!!” Phichit tries, staring at Yuuri with the eyes of a terrified victim, while Yuuko grins with the calm face of a kidnapper.

Viktor and Yuuri stare.

**

The first time Yuuri gets a confession, he thinks it’s a joke.

“Are you sure?” He asks, as a girl holds out her bento to him that she made just specially.

Yuuri wasn’t even certain that people did that anymore. He’s pretty sure he read it in a manga once, and seen it nowhere else since.

She nods, blushing, still holding it out.

“Thank you. Thank you so much...”

“Kiko.” She answers.

“Kiko.” Yuuri replies, smiles, and takes the lunch.

It’s as he sits down to eat it, during lunch, that everyone notices.

Particularly Viktor.

“What’s that?” He turns his nose up as if there’s a bad smell. Yuuri thinks the food Kiko has prepared looks rather nice.

“Someone made me a bento.” He beams wide.

Viktor narrows his eyes. “What?”

“A bento? Like a lunch? She spent a lot of time on it. Isn’t that nice?”

“Yuuri.” Viktor starts darkly. “If you accept it, it means you’re dating.”

Yuuri looks up, one roll of sushi in hand. “Huh?”

Viktor clenches his jaw. “That’s why I’ve never accepted any of mine, saying I have strict dietary requirements. She probably thinks she’s your girlfriend now.” His expression darkens at that, throat bobbing as he swallows.

Yuuri feels a slow, steady blush creeping up his throat. “Oh.” He stares forlornly at the lunch. “Do I have to return it if I don’t want to date?”

“Yes.” Viktor very nearly growls. “Return it now, Yuuri.”

“But.” Yuuri hesitates. “Can I not eat some?”

“No!” Viktor stresses, takes the sushi from Yuuri’s hand and puts it back in, before shutting the lid. “Take it back now, explain the situation.”

Yuuri sighs, glances off to where he knows Kiko is sitting, and looks down at his lunch.

“Unless.” Viktor grates out, near grinding his teeth. “You want to be dating.”

“No!” Yuuri cries. “No, no, she’s just a friend. Well. I only met her today, so.” Yuuri sighs, and stands with the lunch. “I’ll take it back.”

He crosses over to where Kiko is giggling with friends, and feels a pit open up in his stomach.

“Kiko.” He starts softly.

She looks up.

“I’m really sorry. I’m honoured, and it looks delicious. But I can’t accept. Because of ice skating and school, I don’t have much time for dating. But.” Yuuri suddenly feels the need to add. “But if I was to choose anyone to date, it would be you.”

Kiko is blushing, and all her friends are agape.

“It’s — it’s alright, Yuuri.” Kiko murmurs, voice soft. “I made it for you. It would go to waste either way. You can eat it. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Yuuri blinks. “Are you sure?”

Kiko smiles, and nods.

Yuuri, grinning and feeling suddenly emboldened, leans down and presses the lightest peck to her check.

“Thank you so much, Kiko.” He states, and straightens.

He knows everyone saw. Her friends are gaping, and Kiko has gone purple, along with the whole canteen, stunned silent with mouths hanging open.

Yuuri spins on his heel with the bento and beams with a job well done.

As he’s walking, he can hear screeching behind him, and it makes his grin stretch wider.

Viktor, however.

Viktor is thunderous, practically vibrating in his seat.

“What. Did I. Say?” He bites out.

“I told her!” Yuuri defends, but happy enough that he secured his lunch.

“Are you going to kiss everyone you reject, then? What’s left for the people you accept?” Viktor barks.

Yuuri, uncaring, sticks out his tongue.

**

The lunch table is silent.

Usually when lunch rolls around, Viktor and Yuuri can hardly speak over one another; both too busy trying to talk about the day’s events, any gossip they might have caught during class, their homework answers and how to convince their teachers to let them pair up for an assignment, but today there’s — silence.

It’s not heavy, or tense, it’s simply awkward, the sound of crunching food and soft breaths the only noise.

“So, have you...” Yuuri starts, and trails off. “Did you ... are you going with anyone?”

Viktor blinks, lifts his head. “What?”

“For prom.” Yuuri specifies. It’s in four days.

“No.” Viktor states.

Yuuri feels his muscles relax.

“No, I haven’t decided.” He amends.

Ah. Right. Something churns away in his gut, like undigested food, making his stomach clench and unclench. “Right.” He murmurs.

“You?” Viktor asks, face impassive.

“Oh? No.” He says.

Viktor frowns. “But — didn’t Lisa ask you to go?”

Yuuri waves a hand. “Yeah, I think — she just meant as friends, because we both don’t have anyone.”

Viktor’s eyebrows twitch. “So you are? Going with Lisa?”

“What? No! I said it was okay, she should go with the person she really wanted to.”

Viktor looks slightly constipated. “What did she say to that?”

“Just said thanks.” Yuuri frowns. He doesn’t understand Viktor’s insistence on asking.

“Maybe the person she wanted to go with was you.” He replies.

Yuuri clenches his jaw. “I highly doubt that, and anyway don’t you have like a tonne of offers? Why are you asking?”

“Just curious.” Viktor huffs.

“So what have you said to everyone? Yes? Does the whole school think they’re going to prom with you?” Yuuri knows he’s being snide, but he can’t help it. Viktor can never say no to anyone; if it means knowing he might upset them, he sticks to the word ‘yes’. Viktor is famous for having half the class as his valentine, is famous for losing his virginity to at least a third of the girls in their year, which, if Yuuri is correct, can only happen once.

Viktor, as if sharing in an illicit secret, leaned over one day and whispered, “I’m still a virgin.”

Yuuri nearly choked on his own spit. “WHAT?” He screeched.

“Shhh.” Viktor held a finger to his lips. “It’s a secret.”

Yuuri later found out that when the girls came up to him, asking if they could say the were the first to sleep with him, Viktor has happily obliged. Yuuri later thunked his head on the desk.

“No.” Viktor said, but his voice sounds strangely soft. “No, I’ve said I’m waiting to everyone who asks.”

Yuuri blinks. “Waiting for what?”

Viktor looked a bit caught out. “Just. Waiting. I’m just waiting.”

“To see if someone better asks?” Yuuri says, incredulous.

Viktor evades his gaze, and shrugs.

Yuuri swallows thickly. “Right. Uh.”

Well then. He’s waiting for something better.

Or maybe he isn’t. Maybe he’s just using it as an excuse. Maybe he feels as awkward going with someone as Yuuri does.

“Well I was. Because ... I mean ... I was ... I mean, I just ...” _spit it out, spit it out,_ “Just ... thought ... like, we could go? Together?”

Viktor is staring, agape.

“I mean!” Yuuri flails both hands. “I meant! Just as friends, just cause — the whole idea is a bit awkward and I really — there’s not really anyone I would want to go with but you — but only as friends! In a friend way! Because it wouldn’t be awkward—”

“Yuuri.” Viktor is beaming, all his teeth on display. “I would love to.”

“You — really?” Despite everything he just said, all Yuuri can think is; _IM GOING TO PROM WITH VIKTOR NIKIFO_ —

“Yes.” Viktor nods, beams again.

**

It's Valentine’s Day, the 14th of February, and Yuuri most certainly does not want to go into school.

So. He’s not going.

Not because he's worried about not getting any Valentines gifts or cards. And not because he is, in fact, worried about getting any, because inevitably, if he does, he'll have to kindly accept whatever it is and then kindly inform whichever innocent soul it is that's chosen to grant him something on this pitiful holiday that he's sorry, but he just doesn't feel that way about them

Because, more importantly, Yuuri does not want to go into school this day as inevitably, his best friend (and also, another small matter, his _mate_ ) is always hounded by cards, chocolates, flowers, and any other assortments of love and romance.

“MMmmm!” Yuuri groans for the second time, after the second time his mam calls up to tell him to get ready. "Not going!" He shouts.

“You very well are, mister!” Mam shouts up, her voice hardening

Yuuri groans once more before forcefully rolling himself out of bed to get dressed

He trudges his way to school, each footfall slower than the last until eventually, he makes it to school

“Yuuri!” Viktor calls, face bright, but his arms, more significantly, are laden with gifts and cards.

Yuuri balks. “Wh – it’s first period!” He cries.

“These were in my locker when I opened it this morning.” Viktor informs him gently, despite the fact he has to shift them around in his arms to save dropping them all.

Yuuri sighs. “Here, let me help you –”

Before he can even reach out to take some of the weight, Viktor startles and turns around, revealing the sight of a blushing girl, holding a rose and twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

Yuuri feels the strange, unmistakable urge to place himself in-between Viktor and the girl and bare his teeth.

It always happens on this day. Today of all days. Yuuri’s protective instincts flare to life, demanding he eliminate every and any threat to Viktor, despite the fact that there is no threat, unless from the thorny cut of a flower that Viktor might scrape a finger on.

“I was just... um, j-just wondering if you ... if you would be my valentine, Viktor?” The girl looks up with wide, honey-coloured eyes, her flawless complexion and sleek hair practically glowing in the harsh lights of the hall. She’s stuttering, a graceful pink to the tips of her ears, but she doesn’t even look that _nervous_.

Whenever Yuuri is nervous, he’s a total mess; stammering and stuttering, flailing limbs falling all over the place, the entirety of his skin flushing deep red, sweat prickling the nape of his neck.

He’s never as composed or as sweetly shy as this girl; he’s the complete, awkward opposite.

Yuuri tightens his jaw and swallows around the odd, lumpy ball of emotions that has welled up inside his throat, threatening to spill over

Viktor smiles, his practised, charming grin that spreads across his features with ease. “Thank you very much, I would love to be.”

Yuuri freezes where he stands.

The girl gapes. “R-really?”

“Mm!” Viktor nods, still smiling that closed mouth smile. “Of course!”

The girl, however, blinks, before she begins looking wary. “Do you – tell everyone this?”

Viktor, again, smiles. “Yes! It would be rude to say no!”

Yuuri and the nameless stranger both share a look.

“Viktor.” Yuuri starts. “You can only ... have one valentine. That’s the whole point. That’s why everyone asks.”

Viktor looks as if all his hopes and dreams have been crushed. “One?” He whispers. “But … but …”

“Have you been saying yes to everyone to get free chocolate?” Yuuri demands, almost taking a step forward.

“No!” Viktor cries, looking slightly put-out. “I didn’t want to say no and upset anyone!”

Yuuri deflates like a rubber ball. “Viktor.” He sighs, and rubs his forehead.

“But will you?” The girl insists.

Viktor blinks, and then, like a dear caught in headlights, stiffens where he stands.

Yuuri can’t say why it happens. But it does. He snaps.

He takes a step forward, stands directly in front of Viktor, and then says, “No. Viktor is my valentine.”

Viktor is gaping, slack-jawed and wide-eyed.

Yuuri straightens his spine and holds his ground.

“Yes.” He states. “Viktor is mine. So.” He nods once, pointed, and then starts to walk away.

Viktor follows suit, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

“Yuuri, do you really –” Viktor breathes, awe-struck.

“You can thank me later.” Yuuri states. Energy still thrums in his veins, making him feel as if he could skate for hours. “Right now, we’re taking back all those gifts.” He nods.

Viktor looks down at his arms, and then realisation spreads across his features. “Ah.” He states. “You – so I wouldn’t – ah.”

Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “Don’t think you’re keeping them.”

Viktor looks forlornly down at his chocolate.

Yuuri huffs. “Come on. Tomorrow all the chocolate will be discount. We’ll get it then.”

Viktor sighs, not any happier.

**  
“Viktor, take this more seriously!” Yuuri shouts. “We’ll end up with half a cake and half a boiled egg at this point!”

Viktor can’t help it. He bursts out laughing.

Yuuri just looks so  _cute_ , with his hair all tuffed up and turned white from the icing sugar, flour dusting up his glasses and staining his cheeks, one perfect imprint on the tip of his nose.

His expression is a little frazzled and a little more manic, cheeks flushed and eyes bright behind his fogged up glasses.

“Viktor!” He shouts again, as Viktor continues to laugh.

“I’m sorry.” Viktor comes closer, lifting his hands up to frame Yuuri’s face and smear it with more flour. “It’s just. Do you really think they’ll mind? It’s only a house-warming party, there’s still time to buy—”

“Viktor.” Yuuri growls, and it does not do things to Yuuri’s stomach, nope, it does not. “Do I look like a man that’s spent the last two hours baking a cake just to give up?”

Viktor grins, and leans forward so that their noses are touching. “No, you do not.”

“Good.” Yuuri turns again, highlighting the marks of flour and egg all across his back, one very distinct flour-mark in the shape of a hand print decorating his backside. Wonder how he got that.

“So how many eggs have you put in so far?”

“In counting? Six.” Viktor states.

Yuuri turns and gapes. “Wh— wh—” He splutters. “Where does it say six!”

Viktor lays a hand across his chest. “In my heart, see Yuuri in Russia people cook from the soul—”

Yuuri groans and thunks his head on the flour-topped counter. 

**

 _“Ooo_ -reyyy.” Viktor whines, sat on his bum in the grass and utterly abandoned. “I thott we’re gon’a play house and I’s be the papa and you—“

“Shh.” Yuuri whispers, his current attention rapt on a butterfly that’s landed on a nearby leaf. “You’ll scare it.”

Viktor pouts. He looks around at various strewn-about objects; plastic tea cups and a picnic blanket sat on the grass, the shed outside Viktor’s house that’s supposed to be their home as they enjoy a nice day in the sun.

It was supposed to be  _nice._  They were supposed to be playing house, and Viktor was supposed to pretend to pour Yuuri some tea in an empty cup while Yuuri pretended to sip and enjoy it and Viktor would glow with pride and imagine that it was all real—

“Sorry.” Yuuri comes back and plops himself down on the grass. “Let’s do it again.”

Viktor beams wide.

*

His arm is wrapped tight around Yuuri’s waist, staring up at their new home, a place they’ll decorate with all their own things and permeate with their own combined scents.

Not playing house anymore. The thought makes Viktor beam, lean down to nuzzle into Yuuri’s hair.

**Author's Note:**

> and there u go!!! more updates coming, i have lottsa plans my frends <333
> 
> I'm also Peasantaries on [Tumblr](https://peasantaries.tumblr.com/), [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/peasantaries), and [ Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/peasantaries/)! Come over and talk to me! I'll never bite <3
> 
> If you want to find ways to support me, you can find them there! (*^▽^*)( ﾉ^ω^)ﾉﾟ


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